


To Serve And Protect

by Lenore



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kink, M/M, Slavery, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-13
Updated: 2006-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right or wrong, things had always been the way they were, the intelligentsia ruling and the military serving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Serve And Protect

**Author's Note:**

> I went to see a gay, gay play with a whole bunch of fangirls, and there was inevitably much porn talk afterward, and it led to a bad, bad sort of inspiration. I guess I'm calling this...a BDSM dystopia. I especially blame [](http://barely-bean.livejournal.com/profile)[**barely_bean**](http://barely-bean.livejournal.com/) and [](http://notpoetry.livejournal.com/profile)[**notpoetry**](http://notpoetry.livejournal.com/) for this.

"Colonel Sheppard," Weir's voice came cloyingly over his headset.

Everyone sharing his table in the mess—Teyla, Lorne, Ronon, Cadman—all froze.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Weir?" he tried to strike the right compliant note. He'd never been any good at the sweet-talking part of the job.

"I need to discuss some military matters with you, if you could stop by my quarters."

"Of course." He was already on his feet. Maybe he could get out of there before she announced to everyone—

"And, Colonel? Wear your cock ring," Her voice did a naughty little glide into the lower octave, "and nothing else."

There were bawdy titters from the civilians, and John could feel eyes on him, undressing him, the scientists no doubt imagining him with his ass in the air, thighs spread, the way he'd be the next time they had their turn with him.

"I wouldn't wish Weir on anyone, sir," Lorne said guiltily, "but I can't help—"

John waved off the apology. "Everyone's glad when she's not calling them."

"Didn't walk right for three days after she got hold of me the last time," Ronon grumbled.

John let out a sigh. "Well, I guess I shouldn't put it off. That just makes her mean."

"Meaner," Cadman corrected.

John sighed again.

Teyla pressed his hand. "If you need assistance when it's done, you have only to ask."

He smiled weakly. "She just likes to leave a few marks. Nothing I can't handle."

He headed reluctantly off to his quarters. All the civilians he passed leered openly. Everyone else shot him quick looks of sympathy. As members of the military class, they all shared the same duty, to serve the intelligentsia, with their lives out in the field and their bodies in private. There was a duty roster for personal service just like any other task. Every member of the military spent a few nights a week taking orders in some scientist's bed. Elizabeth, as the leader of the expedition, could compel personal service from any member of the military at any time, the perks of being the boss. There was nothing she liked more than showing John that being military commander simply meant that he was Atlantis' biggest slut.

In his room, John stripped off his clothes, took the despised cock ring from the bedside drawer. If Elizabeth hadn't realized how much he hated it, she probably wouldn't have made him bother with it. He carefully eased his testicles through the solid brass and then his cock. He already felt like a prisoner. He teased his fingers along his shaft and tried to think of something other than Weir, something that was actually good. It was always the same thing, what got him going, and he closed his eyes and stroked himself to full hardness. Weir had whipped him the last time he'd showed up at her room not as erect as she liked.

He pulled on a robe and went to her room. The doors slid open for him.

"Colonel Sheppard." She smiled, lounging on her bed, wearing a black lace bra and panties and a filmy little peignoir, silk stockings and high heels that looked decidedly like weapons. "Nice of you to finally show up."

"I came as soon as—"

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. "I told you. Just the cock ring."

He peeled the robe off. "I couldn't exactly—"

She smirked. "It's not as if there's anyone who hasn't seen it." She rose and sauntered over to him, flirted a finger along his cock. "Nice." She tilted her head. "Is that all for me?"

He smirked right back at her. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself. "If you think you can handle it."

Her eyebrows drew together severely, eyes sparking. She grabbed him by the hair and bit kisses onto his lips. "Get on your knees and make me come, or I'll make you sorry." She pushed him by the shoulders and gave him a sickly sweet smile. "I'm sure any of the science departments would be motivated to even greater achievement by the promise of the military commander taking personal care of them."

She widened her stance, and he dipped his head. She was wearing crotchless panties as usual, the queen of the obvious and the tacky, and he got to work, tongue and fingers and the careful edge of teeth when she was ready for it. She came once, twice, and pushed him away after the third time.

"Bend over the chair." She pressed a vial of oil into his hand. "Fuck yourself open with your fingers." She scooted onto the bed. "I like to watch."

He held back a sigh. Putting up with bad porn dialogue wasn't specified in his contract, but then neither was physical punishment. It wasn't as if any of them could complain to the Military Commission on Personal Service, with Earth another galaxy over and cut off to them. He slicked his fingers, pressed in one, then quickly a second. Weir was never patient. He pushed back onto his hand. If he didn't do this enthusiastically enough, she'd take care of it herself. That was never fun.

"Enough," she declared. "Get into position, facing me."

He got down onto his hands and knees, head down, her stilettos at eye level. She walked around him, drew a finger down the line of his back. "So pretty." She tapped her headset. "Dr. McKay. I have a project I need your help with. Report to my quarters, please."

"On my way," came Rodney's reply.

Weir knelt down beside John, whispered in his ear, "You really should learn to hide your reactions better, Colonel. I know you don't enjoy taking it up the ass. You squirm when I use the dildo on you and look positively miserable when a man's fucking you." She kissed his temple, an ugly parody of tenderness. "You shouldn't make it so easy for me to torment you."

She stood, and the doors opened. "What did you need—" Rodney broke off. "Oh."

"Come in, Rodney." Weir's manner grew more expansive. "How do you like your bonus?"

The doors closed, and Rodney's voice came closer. "It's just what I wanted."

Weir laughed. "I thought you'd like it. Well, he's all yours. The only stipulation, I get to watch."

There was a soft flutter, Rodney taking his clothes off. "I wouldn't deprive anyone of seeing that gorgeous ass getting fucked."

Weir settled onto the bed again, and suddenly there was heat against John's back, a hand sliding along his side, a hard cock leaving a slick trail on his hip.

"Is he ready?" Rodney asked.

"Dying for it. I'm sorry you missed seeing him finger himself, by the way. It's a good look for him."

Rodney circled John's hole with his thumb, dipping inside. "I've seen it. It's very nice." He licked the back of John's neck. "Try to relax, Colonel. I know how much you enjoy this."

John could feel his laughter vibrate against his back, and then Rodney's cock was pushing into him, the hot pressure of it making him bite his lip, dip his head lower.

Rodney moaned. "God. I don't know how someone who gets fucked so much can be this tight."

"Tell me how good he feels," Weir demanded.

"Like he was made for dicking," Rodney told her.

He gripped John's hips and grunted as he thrust into him. John closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. From the breathy noises coming from Elizabeth, she was enjoying the show. Rodney came at last and pulled out. John stayed where he was. He wasn't allowed to move until Elizabeth said so.

Rodney got dressed. "Well, thank you for that. As bonuses go, it was highly motivating."

Weir's eyes were bright, color sharp in her cheeks. She'd obviously come again while Rodney was fucking him. "You like the Colonel, don't you?"

Rodney laughed. "Who doesn't like a hot piece of ass?"

Weir pursed her lips. "All right. You can have him. From now on, he serves you exclusively. I can always amuse myself with Ronon and Major Lorne." She smiled, showing her teeth. "Of course, in exchange I'll expect one new capability from our newly acquired ZPM to come online, oh, say, every week."

"Done," Rodney said. "Can I—" He looked down at John.

Elizabeth waved her hand. "Take him. Do whatever you want with him." From her expression, it was clear she was already bored.

Rodney threw John's robe at him. "Get up. Come back to my quarters with me. From now on, that's where you live."

Weir nodded her assent, and John pulled on his robe, stumbled after Rodney down the hallway. Rodney locked the door once they were inside his room, wrapped his arms around John and held on. "Did she do anything terrible to you before I got there?"

He shook his head. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"I told you if you pretended to hate dick enough she'd hand you over to some man. She's so predictable. I'm just glad she gave you to _me_. I've been working her for _weeks_, all the degrading bullshit I could think of. I now sadly understand the phrase 'I threw up in my mouth.'" He shook his head. "This situation really needs to be over already."

"Rodney," John said, his voice as achingly needy as his body. "Get this thing off me." He took Rodney's hand and guided it to his cock. "Please."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." Rodney cupped the back of his head and kissed him, licking away the blood where Weir had bitten him.

He pushed John's robe off his shoulders and dropped to his knees. John's erection surged, arousal thrumming through him at just the thought of Rodney's mouth. Rodney brushed his fingers through the curls at John's groin, making him shiver. He bent his head and licked the crown, wrapped a hand around the shaft and urged John's hips forward, encouraging him to thrust. So hot and good, and even with the cock ring, John didn't last long, coming until he was shaking, fingers curled in Rodney's hair.

When he was soft enough, Rodney worked him loose from the ring. John hissed through his teeth, even though Rodney was being gentle. Rodney soothed his fingers over delicate skin. "She's a bitch to leave you in that thing so long."

John managed a tired smiled. "She's a bitch, period."

"True," Rodney said. "And if I have anything to say about it, she's going to be a dead bitch."

He stripped, and they got into bed. Rodney pressed against John's back, arm across his waist, the good kind of possession. He kissed the back of John's neck. "Turn out the lights."

John thought them off, and he reached for Rodney's hand. Just the two of them. It was too good to believe, even if it was doomed to be short-lived given Weir's fast-shifting whims.

"We're getting close," Rodney murmured in his ear. "Zelenka has figured out the internal defensive array, and Miko has the chair online. Weir doesn't know, just like she doesn't know how you can interface with the technology. We have at least half of the science team with us, even some of the Americans. It's going to happen soon, John. Soon." Rodney tightened his arms around him. "Once we have control of the city, there will be no more personal service. You'll never be anyone's sex slave again." His voice turned to flint.

John tucked Rodney's hand under his chin and let out a contented sigh. He stumbled when he tried to imagine a future like that. Right or wrong, things had always been the way they were, the intelligentsia ruling and the military serving. But when Rodney sounded that certain, John could almost begin to believe.


End file.
